Pain Of An Eighth Grade Genius - Book Two of the Nickhoales Series
by MorningStar1399
Summary: Continuation of An Unyielding, Horrifying Love: After Amy Nickhoales is placed into the care of the murderer, his love is displayed for her in ways she wishes impossible. While Reid among the few that know and believe the truth, he is also among the most wanted...by more than just Amy. Rating changed from T to M due to language and occasionally graphic content.
1. One

**Author's Note:**

**So fast, I know! For all new readers, this is a continuation of my story ****_An Unyielding, Horrifying Love_****. If you haven't read it, you might want to read it first before you start reading this because, well, you just might get lost in this one if you don't.**

**Now allow me to continue!**

* * *

**Saturday, January 21st, 2012 2:43 PM  
Hotch's home, Quantico, Virginia**

Dr. Spencer Reid sat at the kitchen table with the rest of his friends at Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner's place for a special get-together after a particularly hard case in Connecticut. Everyone was there - Emily Prentiss sat across from Reid, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau on her left, Derrek Morgan at Reid's right, Penelope Garcia at his, David Rossi across from her, Hotch at the head. Hotch's son Jack was spending the night at a friend's house and wouldn't be back until the morning, giving them the perfect night to talk about the case that impacted quite a few members of the team.

Hotch passed around the rolls as they helped themselves to spaghetti and meatsause, salad, baked zucchini, and other Italian delectables, much to Emily and JJ's work. Reid had to admit, the food was good, but he hadn't really had an appetite for the past week and a half since he knew Amy Nickhoales was off in the hands of the murderer they'd failed to catch, but Hotch wouldn't believe him, especially since it was Amy who had told Reid it was Stan Fields, her past dance instructor who was in his early fifties.

Once everyone had eaten, the team sat around the table, preparing to talk about the case Reid couldn't take his ever-busy mind off of.

Hotch started. "This last case was anything but usual."

Prentiss nodded. "I'm still having insomnia. Sure, we caught the guy, but that doesn't make me feel safer. He wanted Amy to suffer, and now she will for the rest of her life."

"However long it will be," Reid muttered.

"It will be very long, Reid," Hotch said, knowing what he meant. "I highly doubt Amy was right. She probably just wanted the attention again. You know kids these days."

Reid chuckled bitterly. "I highly doubt Amy is the attention-seeking type. If she wanted the attention of the media then, she'd have gone out there and talked to them, watched herself on TV in the hotel, done something besides steer clear of meeting people she knew would end up prime targets of the murderer's agressive feelings."

Morgan put his hand on Reid's shoulder. "Reid, just because she knew you were a genius doesn't mean she'll know right off the bat we caught the wrong guy."

"'I'll see you again, Amy.' 'Nice to see you again, Amy,'" Reid quoted.

"What?" Garcia asked, confused.

Hotch closed his eyes and shook his head. "The last two cross-examination questions. The man who confessed to the crimes said those in the accent of his birth nationality. What are you trying to say, Reid?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm just thinking about something regarding those two questions and the accent in which he said them in." Reid looked at Hotch suddenly. "Amy said the man must have seen an accent coach for a British accent because 'I'll see you again Amy' at the train bombing was in a British accent. Hotch, Francesco Vodka is _Russian_. Doesn't that say something?"

"So she got the nationality wrong. So what? The man confessed. That's all we were there for. We caught the guy, and now we're here. End. Of. Case," Hotch said.

Something inside of Reid cracked then. He stood suddenly. "Thanks for dinner. Hope you have fun discussing the countless lives lost at the hands of a man who walked away the primary guardian of his true victim and how this affects you. It's not likely going to affect you all nearly as much as it does myself _and_ her. Who knows what she's enduring now?!" With that, he grabbed his coat and left.

Once outside, he walked down to the corner of the street and pulled out his phone to call a cab.

"Reid!" someone called.

He put the phone in his pocket and turned back to Hotch's place to find Garcia rushing over to him.

"Reid, wait up!" she called again, nearly tripping due to her heels.

Reid walked a little closer, then stopped once she was next to him. "What, Garcia?"

"Reid, I'm sorry. If you want, I can help you make a case against Stan Fields, but you're going to have to come up with evidence against him," Garcia said once she caught her breath. "In the meantime, I think you should get some help. It might, well, help you get over this case once and for all."

Reid shook his head. "Seeing someone isn't going to help. Believe me, it doesn't erase memories the way I'd want them to. But I'll take you up on that offer. But the only evidence I have so far is Amy's accounts on what happened and any information you can get about Stan Fields."

Garcia nodded. "Will do, Genius Man."

Reid half-smiled. "Thanks. You leaving Hotch's?"

She nodded. "Yep."

"We'll share a cab then," he said, and placed the call.


	2. Two

**Monday, January 23rd, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalacians, United States**

_Journal_

_How do I know days have passed? I don't. I just guessed based on this idiotic routine Stan's making me endure. I endure in silence unless I'm supposed to be singing or speaking to him. He doesn't seem to mind. Yet._

_I know this is definitely an oddity, but I've started wearing the locket Reid gave me. He was smart to engrave it in Latin and had written his message on the back of his photo in Latin. I love Latin, so of course I can speak, read, and write it. "To the little genius," the engraving said. "May this keep the thought of us here in Quantico doing whatever we can to help you in any way possible always present in your mind. ~S. Reid" said the writing on his photo. He sure can write in small print. It's a good thing I have good vision with these glasses. Speaking of which, where are they? Nevermind. I found them. It's a miracle I noticed they weren't on, let alone have found them._

_Ugh. My headache's back. And I have music next. Yippee. Wonder what instrument he'll have me play today?_

_ Amy _

Amy closed her journal and slipped it into its place between the mattress and boxspring, placing her pen on her nightstand. The monitor on the computer blinked green and red at her. If it were a living creature, Amy would have thought it wanted to be played with or given a walk. Instead Amy pulled her knees up to her chest on her bed and rocked herself back and forth, humming an old lullaby she knew some mothers sang to their children to make them fall asleep. She stroked her orange tabby cat, Philip, as she hummed, then pulled him closer and laid next to him, letting his purring calm her nerves and relax her mind.

Eventually the familiar footsteps and whistle came closer, and Amy sat up, petting Philip still, knowing Stan was reluctant to have him in the house. There was an oddly cheery knock on the door, then it opened. Stan took two steps inside, then said cheerfully, "Ready for music?"

Amy looked at Philip, whose head had rested on her leg. "Not really. I don't want to disturb him."

"Want me to?" Stan asked.

Amy's eyes widened with anger. "No."

Stan smiled. "Didn't think so. Come on."

Amy sighed and carefully lifted Philip's head off her leg and slipped her pillow under his head instead. He woke only slightly to meow at Stan and Amy, then rested his head on the pillow and fell back asleep.

Stan watched the entire thing. Once Amy had walked over to him, he kissed the top of her head and said, "That cat of yours is close to human. It's creepy."

"It's reassuring," Amy said, then allowed Stan to wrap his arm around her shoulders and walked on to the music room, as she knew it (if there were proper furniture it would probably be a living room).

* * *

**Monday, January 23rd, 2012 8:39 AM  
BAU Headquarters, Quantico Virginia**

Reid followed Garcia into her office with coffee in his hands for the two of them. She switched on the light and proceeded to turn on her computers and her other technology.

"Make yourself comfortable. Knowing you, this will take a while," Garcia said, hanging her coat on her door. Reid did the same, then placed her coffee in front of her. He sat in a chair next to hers as she signed in. "I'm going to have to change my passwords now since you're in here today."

Reid smiled. "No need. I don't need to use your computers for anything. Nor do I really want to, with all that they're hooked up to in the same room."

Garcia laughed slightly. "Smart boy, but I'm still changing my password once you leave."

Once everything had loaded, she searched for Stan Fields in all possible databases. Nine entries greeted her. She pulled up the first one she saw.

"Got them," she said.

Reid practically shot over to her. "What do you have?"

Garcia read from the screen, and Reid's eyes followed where she was going. "Okay. Stanley Fields was born in Surrey, England, on October 26th, 1960. Moved to Augusta, Maine with his family in 1964. Recieved public education as a child, but was accepted to Harvard, Yale, and Julliard. Stan ended up in Julliard, then went on to ABA, which for him soon changed to ABC, and that's just how easy it was for him. After ten years, he left the company and went to Harvard for...well, he never selected a major, and ended up switching to Yale two years in. Same deal with Yale, except he never switched colleges, he just dropped out and moved to Fairfield, Connecticut.

"Stan ended up opening a private dance studio and had been running that until, well, he burned it down. Then that's it for this one." She minimized the window and opened one of the other entries. "Okay, this is...a form for adoption...wait, he _adopted _Amy? Who let that happen?"

"Hotch," Morgan said, startling the two of them. "Thought I might poke in here and see if I can help." He held a cup of coffee in his hand. "I see you two beat me to the coffee."

"Well, we're going to need it eventually," Reid said, but added. "Grab a seat."

Garcia stared furiously at the screen. "Then there's a newspaper article about his musical genius and amazing dancing feet." Garcia started laughing. "Wow, they called him 'a modern Fred Astaire!' Wonder why he threw all that away just for a kid? Oh, wait, it says he gave away opportunities for fame because he liked being able to teach others his extreme passion and sole love. Rubbish. All he wanted was to see little girls in tights, I betchya."

"Moving on?" Reid asked, his head ready to go between his knees.

Garcia took the hint. "Okay, so there's all the information on his credit card...he's made quite a few recent purchases, except they're all sent to different locations. I highly doubt he's moving Amy all over the place."

"Purchases? What kind?" Morgan asked.

"Oh, a grand piano, a really pretty accoustic guitar, a ballet bar, a viola, clothes, room decorations and furniture, art supplies, notebooks, sketchbooks, writing utensils, and a green velvet-covered journal with silver and gold detailing on the cover. I must say it's actually rather pretty. Then there's quite a few purchases of cat food, cat litter, and cat litterbox liners, then cat climby things that actually look really cool, cat toys, catnip, cat treats, and a cat bed. Did Amy have a cat or something?" Garcia said.

Reid nodded. "Yeah, a male orange tabby she named Philip." He looked at Morgan and Garcia, who stared at him with an intensity that should have worried most people. "Stan's trying to make her comfortable and happy. The decorations, art and writing supplies, the instruments, the cat stuff, it's all for her. The clothes can go either way. The only things I don't see listed is food."

Morgan nodded. "Maybe he's paying cash for that."

"Meaning the store must be local," Reid said.

"And he doesn't want us to find out where he is," Morgan said.

Reid nodded. "Meaning he is the killer, and he knows we know."

Garcia shivered. "That just gives me the creeps."


	3. Three

**Thursday, January 26th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalacians, United States**

_Journal_

_Is it just me or am I actually being given more freedom? Stan no longer locks the door at night, meaning I can go visit Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, and Cameron at night (well, what I take to be night, since I highly doubt he'd become nocturnal just to throw me off) and take walks throughout the house as well. I've discovered everything I possibly can, as it's night now, apparently, and have learned that there are no windows in this entire house, or that every room with windows is one of the locked doors. Probably the latter. I don't think it's possible to have a house without windows. There's a draft in one section of the house, meaning the front door has to be over there, but all doors that I can find over there are locked. Oh well._

_I found a map to Quantico, Virginia in the kitchen last night. Does that mean what I think it does? Is Stan actually going to kill the FBI agents there? He had better not. I'm counting on them to get me out of this mess._

_Why is my computer on? There, now it's not. I'm sorry. It's just that I know I turned it off the last time I used it (seven hours ago), meaning...Stan has to be going through my stuff now. Well, more freedom calls for more security now, Stan? If you're reading this Stan, I hope you know that if you harm a single hair on the agents from the BAU that came to Bethel to try to catch you, I will escape, hurt myself, or take drastic measures and actually kill myself._

_Anyways, the other day he returned my iPod Touch after assuring me there was no way for me to contact anyone on it. I found out there was no WiFi in the house. Smart move, Stan, even though I can't contact anyone living besides you! However the music is reassuring, and my apps make the endless night go by a bit quicker, but so does my cat. Philip's sleeping now. He never leaves my side when I'm in here. Stan added cat climbers in the closet - did I mention that the closet could be a room of its own its so huge? - and I put the litterbox in there, too, so I wouldn't smell it as much as where it was orignially (next to my bed. Yuck!). I take it someone comes in here and cleans it whenever I'm not in here, meaning there are more people here than just Stan, Mr. Bronsky, Cameron, Mrs. Meyes, and myself. If so, where are they? Not that I really am dying for companionship other than the three people here that don't hurt me._

_The other day Stan actually hit me. Sure, he appologized like nuts afterwards and gave me quite a bit of free time and whatever I wanted for food for the day, but it still shocked me. Did his love run out finally? Did he realize that I'm much too young for him, since he's four times my age? I mean seriously!_

_It's too bad I actually like some of these clothes he got me. He knows me much too well. The only problem with them? It's winter. I'd wear them in summer._

_ Amy _

* * *

Stan sat across from Amy at the table, a plate of spaghetti and meatsause in front of him. Amy ate rather slowly, he had learned, as if savoring every bite, not expecting another meal like it to come. He continued eating, hoping she'd say something sooner or later, as the silence was rather uncomfortble for him. He still was unaccustomed to eating meals besides lunch in silence, even though he'd been doing so for about a week.

Finally the silence was utterly unbearable. "I hope you know there is no trickery here, my love," he said.

Amy looked up in shock. "I'm sorry?"

He smiled, pushing his empty plate forward so he could lean on the table. "You seem to feel...unsafe here. Why do you think so?"

"Why shouldn't I? You did not hesitate to kill just about everyone I knew, why would you hesitate to kill me if the need came around?" Amy asked.

"You have no idea how sorry I am for that. But it was for the best. They would have restrained you. How many times must I explain that?"

Amy shook her head. "No, it wasn't for the best. If you wanted me happy, you would have left me alone and stayed just my dance instructor. Wasn't that student-teacher relationship enough?"

She had him. Stan looked at her in frustration. "No. No, it wasn't," he said, and let her eat the remainder of her meal in the suddenly-welcome silence.

* * *

**Friday, January 27th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalacians, United States**

Amy opened the door to the basement although she took it to be early in the morning.

After a moment of silence, a voice ventured up. "Is that you, Amy?"

"Yes, yes it is, Mrs. Meyes," she said, turning on the light as she closed the door and walked down the stairs.

Her former teachers and Cameron sat on the cold cement floor, meager items around them. Amy shivered as she looked around for what seemed to be the millionth time. She already had memorized the bland room, as that was where the dance lessons took place, but every time she came down there it seemed different, as if someone else were waiting down there for her, possibly to start dance early.

"Why don't you get some rest? It has to be early in the morning at this point," Mr. Bronsky said, but Amy shook her head.

"I never do. You all know that by now," Amy said.

Cameron yawned. "Just the thought of staying up makes me tired."

Amy looked down, trying to stop the rush of color flooding to her cheeks. "I've gotten used to it. It's actually not that hard once you get the hang of it."

Mrs. Meyes stood and put her arm around Amy's shoulder. "Would you care to join us for a small card game before you have to go?"

Amy looked up at her and smiled sadly. Mrs. Meyes was the only one who completely understood what was truly going on. "Sure."

The two sat, and soon the game began. The four of them had bonded more over the short periods of time they had spent together in the basement than over the entire school year and more. Soon the game was over (Amy was just too good at these games) and they urged her to leave before Stan woke, even though he wouldn't be up for a few hours.

Amy's sparsely decorated room greeted her, as did Philip's meow from her bed. She closed the door quietly, then walked quickly over to her cat, and the two spent the remainder of the morning until Stan came in to get her for breakfast cuddling on her bed.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**This will get more interesting as the month of February starts and ends, I can assure you that much. Right now I'm trying to find out how one particular event is going to go down.**


	4. Four

**Friday, January 27th, 2012 4:32 PM BAU Headquarters, Quantico, Virginia**

Reid sat at his desk going through the items Garcia had sent him via email. Hotch had left early to spend the rest of the day with Jack - at everyone's insistence - and Emily had called in sick. They didn't have a case yet, so JJ had requested - and been granted - the day off and was out with Will and Henry. Only Rossi, Morgan, Garcia, and Reid were there, and for once Reid was greatful for the quiet. It allowed his mind to wander within its restricted areas while he worked on the case.

Just for the heck of it, he Googled "Stan Fields" and millions of results greeted him. Each of the first ten were soley about his dancing and music skills. The next page involved other people who were named Stan and in fields. None of it helped Reid.

Then, one link called to him. He clicked it, and instantly he was greeted with Stan's personal website. It was full of tributes to the dance studio, rehearsal dates and times, videos of past recitals - his own and those of his dancers' - and links to purchase music he had recorded on his own. On the side bar was a category labeled: AN-Dance and Music Prodigy. Knowing it could only mean Amy, Reid clicked it. Instantly, the screen changed to a photo of a younger, smiling Amy holding a bouquet of flowers, her hair pinned up in a bun, her pink leotard sparkling in the light of the camera. Next to it was a short autobiography, and the page itself was filled with photos, video links, and audio links. Some, however, were more recent. The more recent audio files were from dates _after_ she moved in with Stan - the post date on the most recent one was of the day before.

Reid clicked the audio link and listened intently. Amy's sweet voice greeted him. "Hi! It's me, Amy, again. I just wanted to let everyone know that I've still been having a bit of a tough time readjusting to a different life, but now I think I'm better enough to move on and put all those murders behind me. Here's a song I think will help anyone who's gone through something rather similar to what I have been through cope and at least move on with life, even if they can't get over what happened."

A piano began to play, and the voice that sang was one of the most beautiful Reid had ever heard.

"I know this hard, I know life looks bleak.

People can be cruel, people can be sweet.

It's a confusing madness that's unpredictable.

But what I still know is I can breathe.

"You have to

Move on

You can't hold on anymore

Sure bad things happen but you can't really control them, can you?

Can you?

"People have asked me what keeps me going.

I tell them I'll never know

My life's a confusing madness that I can't understan

But what I still understand is that I can hope!

"You just have to

Move on

You can't hold on

Much longe

Love another

Soul-it's easier

Sure life ain't easy - it never was.

Sure bad things happen but you can't really control them,

Can you?

Can you?

Can you?

"Can you

Please try?

At least you'll have answers

That's more than ever I got.

Can you

Please do

What you want to

What you can do?

"Can you?"

Suddenly a male voice accompanied hers, and Reid could only guess it was Stan's, as the two voices made a perfect match.

"Can you?

Can you? (At least you can try)

Can you? (At least one more time)

Can you? (Can you at least try?)

Can you? (Do what you want to?)

Can you?"

The singers stopped, as did the piano after a brief ending, then Amy's normal voice returned. "That was 'Can You?' by Stan and I. I played the piano, and we both sang, obviously. The link to download it to your iPod or other music device is on the bottom of the page under the song's title, as always! Hope you all enjoyed today's song!" With that all-too-cheery note, the recording stopped.

Reid refreshed the page, expecting another to show up. In fact, two did. One was another song, but the other was obviously for him. It was in Latin.

"Stan has asked me to show off my skills in speaking a particular dead language: Latin," Amy said, but her voice had lost its cheery tone. "So here it goes!" Instantly her words made sense to Reid. "_I have no idea where I am. I'd appreciate it if you'd try to find me now! If I don't recieve help soon-_" Her words were cut off as the recording was as well. Suddenly, a message appeared on Reid's screen:

**_I know you heard that. Just know she's paying for it._**

Reid could only imagine what that meant as he flung himself from his chair and raced into Garcia's office where he knew she and Morgan were.

* * *

**Friday, January 27th, 2012 Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalacians, United States**

_Journal,_

_I just finished recieving an extremely painful "love session" after my attempt at getting help. I know Dr. Reid will be listening to it if he just searched for Stan on the Internet! It was worth the pain. Someone will end up finding me, I know it._

_By now, Stan's rather pleased that our recordings have swayed the public that doesn't know the truth into believing I'm alright, when I'm far from it. I learned just yesterday that I lost weight. I didn't weigh much before, but now I'm actually frightened for my health. I know I'm eating as much as I can when the routine hits the "food" sections. Is he not feeding me enough times a day? True, I was hungry my first day, but now that I have access to the kitchen I shouldn't be, but I still kind of am. Also, I have discovered one unlocked door leading to a room with one window, but the view doesn't help me any. All I can see is a frozen, wooded maze sloping down away from us here. We're near mountains. The Appalacians, perhaps? That could only mean we crossed state boundaries, throwing off the track of FBI agents. Or are we just in a house on a hill in Connecticut still? No matter what they should know where he is, since this has to be registered in his name...unless he used an alias or someone else owns the place. I don't know, but I am starting to care. The more I stay here the worse I begin to feel._

_I've been getting headaches, but now they've escaladed into full-out dizziness even when I'm __not__ dancing or singing or holding my breath for some reason. I definitely am getting nauseous now, and lately I've been easily distracted, disappointing Stan even further. Am I just dehydrated? I might as well be, since I don't drink anything at any time except during "food" sections. Or am I just overhungry? Or am I actually sick?_

_I'll see if my condition gets worse before telling Stan. I don't want to make him any more aggrivated than he already is._

_Amy _

* * *

Amy sat at the edge of the mini stage, her head in her hands, between her knees as Stan limped over to the stereo. The headache that wracked her mind was one of her most severe, and Stan had insisted on doing a very loud song despite Amy's pleas. A wave of nausea rippled through her stomach, almost forcing her to scream.

"I don't think she's okay," Cameron said hesitantly.

Stan just glared at him in response, but grasped his cane and limped over to the shriveled-up Amy after turning off the music. "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked, not a shred of anger in his voice.

Amy grimaced, but nodded. "I just have a really bad headache. Probably made worse by the music."

Stan nodded, stood fully, and limped back upstairs, saying, "Once you're okay to walk again, either head to the dining room or your room. Food'll be ready soon."

Amy looked up momentarily to nod, then her head fell back into her hands again as he continued up the stairs.

Once the door was closed, Cameron practically shot over to her. "You sure you're okay, _sweetheart_?" he mocked, emphasizing the "s". "You don't look it."

"Go away," she said with a weak smile. "Please. You're making my headache worse."

Cameron trudged back over to Mr. Bronsky, who began to scold him quietly. Mrs. Meyes walked over then, rubbing her back. "This seems to have been getting worse. You've managed to act like you aren't in pain or sick, but it's been getting worse. You are showing the effort in the dance." She stopped rubbing momentarily. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Amy sighed. "I don't know. My headaches are getting worse, I'm dizzy without spinning, I'm almost always cold, but that could easily be from the clothes I wear."

"So put on a sweatshirt or leggings or tights or something, and get a hot chocolate if you're cold," Mrs. Meyes replied.

"It would help if I had one with me," Amy noted. "You guys are lucky. It's nice and warm down here. Upstairs..." Amy shivered at the thought of the frigid rooms of the main and second floors.

Mrs. Meyes suddenly started to remove her grey fleece sweatshirt, which had the Bethel education logo on it in blue. "Here," she said, handing it to Amy. "Wear this when you're cold."

"Won't he notice?" Amy ask, thinking of Stan.

"So what? He's not going to hurt you, and he knows he can't hurt us. The most he can do is yell at us," Mrs. Meyes said.

_He can do a lot more than hurt any of us_, Amy thought, but all she did was hug her teacher, thanked her, and walked slowly, quietly upstairs back to her room.


	5. Five

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, I'm really sorry for the unintended suspense. I've just been really busy lately, but I fully intend to add a bit today since I can.**

**Also, to quell fears people have been having (only one reader's voiced them, but I'm pretty sure others have them, too), Amy is ****_not _****pregnant. No, that would be ****_way_**** out of my comfort zone, thank you very much. No, it is only stress with a cold.**

**I apologize ahead of time for the sudden and extreme leap in time.**

* * *

**Monday, February 6th, 2012 6:10 PM  
BAU Headquarters, Quantico, VA**

Reid slowly sipped the remnants of his coffee, hoping to stay later than usual. So far he had found nothing. The message on his computer screen had vanished once Garcia had seen it and taken a screen shot, nor had any more shown up. Stan's website yielded no additional information, as there had not been an audio file uploaded since the Latin message.

Emily walked by his desk, then noticed he was still there. "You still here? You're normally out of here by five thirty on the dot!"

Reid sighed. "Yeah, I'm still here. I have nothing else on my mind at the moment."

"Ah." She set her empty coffee cup on his desk, then dragged over a chair. "Amy on the mind?"

Reid nodded.

"Listen Reid. You have to get over it. So far nothing's happened, so we can't do anything about it. Hotch's right. We did our job," she said.

Reid looked her in the eyes. "Amy took a bold move and tried to contact me, knowing I'd be doing everything within my power to help her get out of there." He turned to his computer and pulled up the webpage. "See? There's all of this, and more. But here's the one that was meant for me." He scrolled down to where the Latin audio file was the day he'd first seen it. However, it wasn't there.

Emily didn't see it, either. "Where is it?"

"It isn't here anymore. Stan must have deleted it," Reid said with fake firmness, but he barely hid his worry for Amy's safety. "But he sent me a message somehow, one that would have taken years to learn how to do." He minimized the window and opened the screenshot file. The message was still written the way it had been.

Emily's hand flew to her mouth. "It can't be. Has Hotch seen this?"

Reid shook his head. "No. He wouldn't believe me. He doesn't seem to trust me anymore."

"You too?" Emily asked. "He's been acting the same way towards Morgan, Garcia, and I! Rossi seems to be the only person he trusts now."

Reid thought about that with deep consideration. "Is he still here?"

Emily stood. "Yeah, he's up in his office right now, talking to JJ about something. Why?"

Reid grabbed a small manilla file and printed a copy of the screenshot. "I'm going to go ask him something."

Emily watched as he walked away, then said, "I'm going to get myself more coffee, like I had planned to do before we started talking."

"You go do that!" Reid said, then knocked on Hotch's door.

"Come in, Reid," said the older agent.

"Hotch, what's going on?" he asked. "I'm starting to get concerned. Now you don't trust anyone besides Rossi and JJ. Why is that?"

Hotch looked at Reid in anger, then sighed. "Close the door."

Reid obeyed.

"Reid, Amy's my daughter. Rossi and JJ are the only ones that know besides you now." Hotch's voice rang with truth.

Reid's eyes widened. "It can't be true."

"I've been telling myself the same thing, but that doesn't change the facts. I've been trying to convince myself I'm not, but it hasn't been working."

"Then why did you let Stan become her guardian?"

"It was only right for her to be with someone she knew."

Reid shook his head. "No, it was so you could feel like you weren't her father. How do you even know she's your daughter?"

Hotch pulled open one of his desk drawers, and pulled out a small, locked box. He unlocked it with a key he found from his key ring, and pulled out letters and portrait-style photos, most likely from school pictures. Each image showed a smiling young girl who closely resembled Amy at various stages of life. Reid examined each image, but each one definitely was _not _Amy.

Reid shook his head. "These aren't of Amy."

Hotch looked up at him. "Then can you explain the rest of my memories?"

Reid nodded. "Yes, actually, I can. It would help if you knew that Domonick and Amy were adopted."

It was Hotch's turn to be shocked. "What?"

"I had Garcia look up and find out everything she could that might be useful, and it turns out Amy and Domonick Nickhoales started out life as Amy and Domonick Fernand. Their birth parents, Freidrich and Jessica Fernand, were both killed in a massive drunk driving accident on their way home from a dinner with friends when Domonick was twelve and Amy only nine months old. By the time she turned one, the woman she would forever call "Mom" came into the adoption agency and decided to adopt the siblings. It would make sense for you to not know that the child you were the father of that just so happened to share the same parent as Amy and Domonick ended up dying of lukemia when in sixth grade. No, Hotch, the child you fathered was not Amy Nickhoales, but Amanda Nickhoales, with the nickname of Amie by friends. Her mother spelled the nickname wrong."

Hotch sank into his chair. "And all this time I've felt terrible about something I did right?"

Reid shook his head. "No, you had the right notion to feel terrible about allowing Stan Fields to become her guardian. With this note, it would be a miracle if she were still alive." With that, he placed the file and the screenshot on Hotch's desk and walked out of his office, planning on going home.

* * *

**Monday, February 6th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalacians, United States**

_Journal,_

_I think it might be safe to say that after my headaches have gone extreme, the "love sessions" are few and far between, but kissing me full on the mouth has become a bit more common than before._

_With this in mind, dancing has become easier, and Stan doesn't play the music too loud anymore, but always makes sure I'm healthy. My dinners have gone from one course to three: salad, main meal, and then dessert. Dessert has gone definitely to the extremes, ranging from tiramisu to chocolate cake, from brownies to tartufo, from various cheesecakes to various cookie platters. I still have yet to gain additional weight, but the weight I lost is back now, even though I'm still technically underweight._

_Dances have started to vary, as have the music Stan's been teaching me. Already we've gone through the __Legend of Zelda__ music books and all of the soundtrack to __The Twilight Saga__ movies, and we've already covered singers like Josh Groban, Kelly Clarkson, Taylor Swift, and many more. Soon, he says, I'll be learning the soundtrack to the __Lord of the Rings__ movies as well as songs from various musicals. I've been singing less but playing instruments more, and just the other day he bought me a keyboard for my room. I've enjoyed playing that, but all of my happiness here is short-lived because I know it will only be a matter of time before he sees another young girl he loves, and won't love me anymore, and then what will happen?_

_Stan's been out the entire day, and it's starting to worry me. He's been leaving a lot more often lately, often coming back and telling me he needs sleep, but something about him makes me think he's been killing people lately._

_Must go. I promised I'd visit Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, and Cameron since Stan won't be back until tomorrow, as he said. I'm not one to break promises._

_ Amy _

_By the way, is it odd to be grateful for one's monthlies?_

* * *

Amy closed her diary, shoved it back in its place, and dropped her pen back in the drawer of her nightstand. Then, after changing her outfit yet again to something a bit more comfortable and throwing on Mrs. Meyes fleece over it, she walked quickly and quietly to the basement door. Then, she carefully opened it, stepped on the small landing, closed the door, and walked gracefully down the stairs. The pleasant faces of Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, and Cameron greeted her once she got to the base of the stairs.

"Hello Amy," Cameron said with a smile.

"Hey," she said back with a weak wave.

The group talked and played a few card games, then Amy left and headed back into her room, not sure how much time had passed. When she entered her room, she collapsed in the chair by her keyboard, and started composing yet another song, then another, and another, until enough time had passed that she really did begin to worry again about Stan's absense, knowing that an absense of this length could only be comprised of doing something wrong then trying to make it up to her by giving her gifts of some sort, and expensive ones at that.

How true were her thoughts.


	6. Six

**Author's Note:**

**This chapter kind of has a song, but it's not the greatest. It's "We Build Then We Break" by The Fray.  
****_"I don't know you, but I know what you did to her. She told me and I happen to believe her, too. They will be three steps behind. You will not know what's got you... I will be two steps behind. You will not know what's got you..."_**

**So yeah...**

* * *

**Monday, February 6th, 2012 7:12 PM  
Reid's home, Quantico, Virginia**

Reid felt an odd sort of finality to the sound of his front door closing behind him as he hung his keys on their hook next to the door. His bag thumped to the floor next to the coffee table as he examined that day's mail. _Bills, junk, bills, junk, Mom, junk, junk, bills, huh?_ Reid pulled out an otherwise-unmarked cream envelope marked _**DR. SPENCER **_**_REID _**in someone's neat print. Reid instantly recognized it from the dance studio as being Stan's, and tore it open to find bus money, a movie ticket, and a note, also in Stan's handwriting.

_**Take the first bus you can to the movie theatre mentioned on the ticket, enter, and sit as far to the back as you can. Steer clear of the interior aisle and the middle of the row.**_

_**~Stan**_

Reid was hesitant to leave, but flipped over the note to find extra directions, and the last line was what forced him out the door and down to the closest bus stop he could find:

_**I will be searching for you after the movie starts. If you have spare change, buy a large popcorn and plenty of candy. Amy's got a sweet**__**tooth, and I'd hate it if she were disappointed.**_

* * *

The line at the concession stand wasn't very long, so Reid paid for the popcorn, a small soda, and what he knew to be Amy's favorite candies out of those available: Sour Patch Watermelons, Twizzlers, Milk Duds, and a Milky Way bar. He walked into the theatre then, sitting in the row farthest back, in the seat closest to the left exit. The movie began, and Reid found himself polishing off the soda and popcorn within the first fifteen minutes. Suddenly, his phone vibrated in his pocket, showing a number he didn't recognize. He answered it anyway.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Reid." The voice on the other end sent a chill down the one named's spine.

"Stan," Reid replied.

"I see you. I suggest you ditch the trash. Head to the back parking lot in fifteen minutes. I'll meet you there."

"And Amy?" Reid asked, his voice quivering slightly.

There was a moment of pause, but there was a faint sound, almost like laughter. "She likes the choices of candy you purchased." The line went dead.

Reid checked the time almost constantly, fidgeting in his seat as the minutes slowly ticked by. Finally, he stood, exited the theatre, tossed the paper cup and bowl in the nearest trash can, then headed out the back door. He walked as far as he could from the building itself, and went to stand in one of three empty parking spots next to each other. On his right was a Chevy truck. On his left a black Mercedes-Benz, the windows tinted darkly.

The minutes ticked by. Ten minutes after he had left the theatre, a mini van pulled into one of the empty spots next to him, and a mother with three children got out and headed into the theatre, talking about how good the movie they were about to watch would be.

Reid found himself watching as they walked into the building, never noticing a tan Camry pull into the spot next to him until the driver put down the window.

"You follow directions so easily, Dr. Reid," said the driver, and Reid whirled around to see Stan Fields at the wheel, staring off into the woods in front of the vehicle. Reid's eyes flew to the backseat, but Stan's words confirmed what his eyes were seeing. "Isn't it best that she isn't involved? She sends her regards, however."

Reid took a step back, but Stan sighed, turned off the vehicle, and opened the door, stepping out as if he were a movie star.

"You are so easy to lure, Dr. Reid," Stan said, his voice brimming with perverse satisfaction. "You have such a care for Amy, I am almost made believe you seek to have her for yourself. However, I know you to be incapable of such a feeling, so I know it to be false, but why else would you care so much for a girl whom you are almost two times older than?"

Reid took another step back, but the mini van prevented him from going any farther backwards.

Seeing this, Stan took a leisurely step forward, then said, "Come. I'm sure Amy would love to see you."

"No," Reid said, but his voice nearly quivered.

Stan displayed little dissatisfaction. "No?"

"I will not go with you. Not unless you will end up releasing Amy and anyone else you happen to be holding against their will. Even then I wouldn't go with you."

Stan shook his head disapprovingly. "I hoped I wouldn't have to tell you this."

"Tell me what?" Reid said with false confidence.

"If you don't come, well, many will die. She may be on the list," Stan said, then turned back to Reid's shocked face. "Do I have a passenger yet?"

Reid knew he would end up in the Camry with Stan no matter what, so he sighed. "Yes."

Stan smiled smugly. "Very good." He led the young agent to the passenger seat and opened the door, then walked around to the driver's side.

The two didn't get very far out of Quantico before Stan pulled over at a gas station. He left the car to pay with cash, but kept his eye on the passenger door as if daring Reid to run. Stan came back, filled up the tank, then drove away, Reid still in the passenger seat.

Stan drove along the highways, then ditched them at an exit advertising a McDonald's and a gas station. He drove around the town a little, then found whatever he was looking for: a jewelery store. He pulled up to it and parked, then came around to open the door for Reid.

"We're making a pit stop for something for Amy. I know she'll like this one," Stan said as Reid slowly got out of the Camry. While he was getting out, Stan grabbed his wrist and squeezed. Reid instantly opened his hand, his cell phone dropping out of it and on to the ground, the battery falling out, a crack appearing in the screen.

"Thank you," Stan said, letting go of Reid's wrist and picking up the phone and battery. "When we get in, you're getting married and searching for something for your fiance. I'm her father, and we're picking out our wedding gifts for her, got it?"

Reid nodded, his other hand around his sore wrist, so Stan pushed him forward and the two entered the jewelery store laughing. Stan pulled a wedding band from his pocket and shoved it on his finger just as an employee walked forward, her sweet voice saying, "Hi, how can I help you?"

* * *

**Monday, February 6th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalacians, United States**

_Journal,_

_I didn't quite finish what I was saying before, but that doesn't really matter right now. What matters is that I am seriously worried. Remember that room I found with a window? Well, everything's blanketed in snow, but that's not the least of my worries. It's already lightening up. That means Stan's been gone for quite some time. Last I saw him, the sky outside was light, and I spent quite some time in that room just watching for some sign of life outside of here. After I visited Mr. Bronsky, Mrs. Meyes, and Cameron, the sky was darkening, so I had gone and made myself a sandwich. Now that it's lightening up, I had made myself a bowl of cereal, but I still know something is wrong. Stan never leaves for an entire day like this._

_It's so quiet in this house. __I composed another several music pieces today, just to give myself not only something to do but some other sound here besides the water in the pipes and the radiators running._

_Someone's coming!_

_That was Stan. He was just letting me know he's back, and that he's going to go to sleep now and that I should behave myself. Something was wrong with the way he acted. He gave me two pieces of jewelery. One's a butterfly necklace, with purple amethyst wings. That one instantly went into my jewelery box. Another is a beautiful locket with diamonds and rubies on the front. Inside is, well, what do you expect to be inside? Exactly. A photo of the two of us, then one of just him. It's a shame it's such a pretty locket. I would have loved to wear it._

_You know, now that he's back, I think I might as well go back and visit Mr. Bronsky, Mrs. Meyes, and Cameron, at least to warn them he's back now._

_Amy _

* * *

Amy closed her journal and put it where it belonged before springing up and heading to the basement, her feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. Once she reached the basement door, she silently opened the door, and walked down the stairs after closing the door behind her. She headed over to Mr. Bronsky, Mrs. Meyes, and Cameron.

Mrs. Meyes breathed a sigh of relief. "Stan took us completely off-guard when he came in earlier. He wasn't whistling or anything! Thank goodness it's only you!"

Amy was confused. "Wait-he came down here? When? Why? What did he say?"

Mr. Bronsky replied, "Not but fifteen minutes ago. He told us not to do anything stupid. The why is over there." He pointed to where the mini-stage was. Amy followed his finger to where he was pointing, and when she locked eyes with him, hers instantly welled up in tears.

There, tied to a chair with a large bruise on his cheek, was Dr. Spencer Reid.


	7. Seven

**Author's Note:**

**I know, so fast! It's just that I'm bored, I only have a scene of lines to memorize and a character sketch to do for the play, and I really want to write this. So dispite my conscience telling me to get crackin' on memorizing my lines (even though I've been doing that for almost an hour now) and writing my character sketch, I have come to FanFiction to add another chapter to this story. Hope you enjoy today's second chapter!**

* * *

**Monday, February 6th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalacians, United States**

Reid knew something was wrong when Amy walked down those stairs to the basement, he just hadn't thought he would end up seeing her the way she was.

She had definitely been under plenty of stress and maltreatment. Her beautiful brown eyes were surrounded by rings of purplish blackish blue, as if she had been beaten or gone without sleep for too long. The latter seemed more likely. Her cheekbones stood out much more than they had before, and he found something off in the way she walked, almost as if she were limping slightly but trying to make sure no one noticed. She walked on her tiptoes, as if trying to make as little sound as possible. Her body was tense, her glasses were crooked and broken, and her toes were extremely cut and bloody. She obviously had been dancing a lot. Reid's own eyes began to tear up as she slowly stepped forward, shaking her head as if trying to tell herself that what she saw was not happening.

"Dr. Reid," she said faintly, then dashed over to him, throwing her arms around his neck and crying into his shoulder.

"Amy," he whispered. "Amy, it's okay, shhh. It's going to be alright. We can figure this out, Amy, I know it. If not, I know the team can find us. They'll know it was him, Amy. It's going to be alright. Relax." His voice choked up towards the end, and finally cracked on the final "alright."

She looked the agent in the eyes. Hers were red and puffy and glossed with tears. "No, no it won't be. You don't know what he's capable of, Reid. He malipulated you, didn't he, Dr. Reid? He told you something about how I'd be there, made you go somewhere, buy something, then attacked, right? He led you somewhere, somewhere he'd have the advantage, possibly paid for some family to have fun as long as they put something or did something in a certain place just to make sure you couldn't escape, then when he felt he would lose, he threatened to kill us here if you didn't come?" Reid nodded. "Exactly. He did the same to Cameron, and he'll to this to another girl eventually. Ten years ago, he was 42 and still ran the dance studio, just in another state. No one ever caught him because he changed who he was almost entirely. Same tactics, too. He gets excited by the murders he commits, so he does one, then waits a year then does the rest in two, three weeks. The girl last time was a Samantha Carter, and she was twelve. Police found her body in a stream around the time I started dancing at his studio in Newtown. He murders, kidnaps, rapes, then starts a normal life. The process last time took about a year. He's done it this time in about a month. He knows I'm strong, so I'm a decent target. He's not in it for the love part anymore, Reid. Now it's about the power. He's brought you here to demonstrate his power. Sure, this time he actually might love me. He's shown it quite a few times. But he knows I can never feel the same way, nor will I ever want to, so he'll decide to start over, produce a new image with a new name and face, a new place, a new job, a new life. He'll call me his wife, but he'll say I died, then call me his child, using my last name as my first so he could invite people over and get drunk, have parties, do something dangerous, then make himself whatever a young girl wants, as long as he gets her in the end. He waits for them to be around my age, then moves in with the murders and abductions, then once he gets a guy he's hired to confess he'll adopt the child as his own and then the rape and love can begin."

Reid stared at the suddenly furious Amy as if she were nuts, then realized she was right. "Samantha Carter, you say?"

Amy nodded. "He confessed to it to me once. Does it help that it was while in bed, too?"

Reid shivered involuntarily. "Well, now I know her murder wasn't actually connected to the others like it, explaining why the DNA found on her didn't match the others. We kept looking for a two-man partnership, but all the men who fit the profile worked solo. No wonder. Samantha Carter had so much extra about her that didn't fit the rest of the murders, but we never thought it was for something different."

This time it was Amy's turn to shiver. "Yikes. Not what I would have liked to hear."

"Hey, by catching Stan we'd catch a mass-murderer who pretty much does it for the thrills," Reid said, but then suddenly the three hostages there before him went silent, looking up at the door. Amy paled as everyone could hear someone whistle a very cheery tune as the sound of a doorknob turning and a door opening greeted them from above: Stan was coming in.

* * *

**Tuesday, February 7th, 2012 7:58 AM  
BAU Headquarters, Quantico Virginia**

The morning at the BAU started off as any normal morning, minus the tension from the string of murders happening in Quantico itself. Already Emily had made trips to Starbucks for venti triple espresso caramel mocha lattes for Garcia, and JJ had cancelled dinner plans so she could work later in an attempt to solve the case.

Hotch walked over to JJ, who was making herself coffee, and asked her to round up the team for a quick meeting. It was easy work, except Reid wasn't there yet.

"That's odd," JJ said as she stared at Reid's vacant desk.

"What is?" Garcia asked as she walked out of her office, holding yet another Starbucks drink.

"Spence isn't here yet," JJ stated.

Garcia, too, stared at the empty seat, then said, "Huh. Well, maybe he's catching some sleep, or his alarm clock didn't go off or something. Like I'd know."

JJ shook her head, but followed Garcia over to Hotch's office.

Once all were present minus Reid, Hotch began. "This is the seventeenth murder in a week. All of them are similiar in so many ways but then they aren't at the same time. Jessica May, seventeen, brunette, stabbed to death with a shard of glass. Betsy Cale, eleven, blonde, shot execution style in the same alleyway Jessica was found in. Violet West, fifteen, Japanese, strangled in the parking lot after a movie, the theatre was across from the alleyway. Amy Grant, fourteen, blonde, suffocated in the same parking lot. Maybeline Warner, ten, brunette, burned alive in the same alleyway. The list goes on, and I'm sure Reid could quote it for you. Speaking of which, where is he?"

All eyes trained to the vacant seat, then Emily said, "Last I knew he was headed to your office, then left for the day."

JJ added, "He called around six thirty, and we took Henry to go get ice cream."

Morgan said, "He called me after that, saying he knew I was going to watch this show last night, and wanted to see if I'd watch it at his place so he could do something different for once."

Garcia said, "I got a panicky call around seven, seven thirty, last night saying he was headed to the movies and that I wasn't supposed to tell anyone about it."

Rossi's eyes widened. "I called him around seven fifty last night asking if he wanted to stop by for a little while to get a breather after all this work on this case. It rang a little, then went dead. I figured he'd dropped his phone while going to pick it up or was in the middle of eating, and didn't worry about it, knowing he'd call me back when he got the chance."

Hotch nodded, then turned to Garcia. "Did he mention what movie theatre he was going to?"

Garcia shook her head. "No. Why?"

Hotch opened the door as he said, "Something has happened to our fellow agent."

* * *

**So I'm sorry this is so short, and I'm pretty sure it seems slightly random, but I tried to get certain pieces of information and the rest of this part out, so I'm fine with what I've written, even though it definitely could be better. You'll find out exactly what happened when Stan arrived to see Amy next to Reid in her journal entry next chapter.**

**I don't think this chapter has a song. I'm sorry to all those I've disappointed with those words, but I've got songs on my profile to all those who want to hear some music.**


	8. Eight

**Author's Note:**

**No comment on the saddening lateness of this update. My only excuse is school and the school play.**

* * *

**Wednesday, February 8th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalachians, United States**

_Journal,_

_I cannot believe what Stan has done. Why in the world would he bring Dr. Reid here of all places? Why would he dare touch him when he was content with my being here? Is what I said true, and this was only a display of power? Or is he just trying to make me happy?_

_I have proof of the second option, however. The instant he saw me standing next to Dr. Reid, he flew into a rage, shoving me away from him and starting to beat him. I screamed, then began crying, shouting at Stan to stop. He didn't, but then finally I regained control over myself and begged Stan to stop, saying I'd take just about anything he would inflict on any of his hostages, myself included. Dr. Reid and Mrs. Meyes made their dismay audible, and Cameron's jaw flew open as his father's eyes widened in shock. I disregarded their reactions, just as Stan did, and proceeded to beg him to stop hurting people. Finally, I said, "Do what you do to others on me before you continue to do it, but always make sure they always get it half as bad as me." Instantly he dropped Dr. Reid and rushed over to me, pulling me to my feet and hugging me close, promising me he'd never hurt anyone again. So far I am satisfied that the love sessions seemed to have stopped altogether, and he hasn't kissed me in a while, but everything else stays the same, just for longer periods of time to compensate for the chunks of the schedule missing. I have not dared to wear any of the jewelry he has purchased for me, nor shall I ever._

_Dr. Reid seems upset whenever he sees me dancing (Stan insists he watch since we don't have a full audience with three people-like we have a full audience with four!), and always comments on my singing, meaning he can hear it from down there._

_No more. Already my tears have smeared some of the text, and only more are to come. I must set my pen down for today. Will write more once these dreadful tears have stopped._

_ Amy _

* * *

**Thursday, February 9th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalachians, United States**

Amy walked out of the dining room and into the music room, like Stan had asked her to. There, at the piano, was new music - just like he said there would be. Reluctantly, she sat down on the piano bench, pushed up the piano cover, and took the music book down. Instantly she froze when she saw that the cover had been made just for her: It read: **_Amy's__ Songs_**. She carefully set it back on the music stand, and opened the book to the marked pages. Instantly the songs that greeted her almost made her cry. She selected one her mother always had loved and knew the words by heart. Slowly, Amy's fingers found the keys the song called for, and began to play and sing Josh Groban's "To Where You Are."

After the first verse, the door she had so carefully closed opened, but Amy barely paid attention Stan's entrance until she noticed he was not alone. It was only then that she noticed that Cameron, Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, and Dr. Reid had come in with him, and were being seated against the far wall away from the door. Stan soon walked over after closing the door, and turned the page back to the beginning.

"From the top, my dear," he said softly, and so Amy took a deep breath, moved her hands, and started playing and singing again, never noticing the camera Stan set up on a tripod recording her performance.

* * *

Reid knew Amy was not playing the piano and singing to her own pleasure. The song she might have selected, yes, but the performance itself must have been planned and run by Stan. Why else would he be recording her?

As Amy sang and played the piano, Reid couldn't get her fragile image from his mind, even when he closed his eyes. With the clothes she wore, and with what was exposed, he could see most of her bones protruding from the skin, especially her ribs, but from what he smelled, she most definitely was not malnourished on purpose. Her once-lush brown hair seemed a ghost of its former beauty, and her eyes were slightly sunken in as her cheekbones protruded inelegantly. Her face had thinned, yes, and there was a dark, old bruise on her right cheek and jaw. Reid could only guess how _that_ had gotten there. Her brown eyes were tear-stained and red, surrounded by dark circles and puffy rings from crying and lack of sleep, no doubt.

Finally, the song ended, and Stan started clapping, then walked over to the camera to turn it off. That was when Amy noticed it, and her eyes widened. Reid could only guess what was to happen next, and even then he could be miles off.

* * *

**Thursday, February 9th, 2012 10:34 AM  
BAU Headquarters, Quantico, Virginia**

Hotch sat at his desk with his head in his hands when Garcia, Morgan, and JJ walked in toting coffee cups, laptops, and files galore. Rossi sat next to Hotch, trying to console him for the hundreth time. Once everyone had been seated around a table that had been brought in at Hotch's insistance (everyone had argued that chairs and binders would suffice for the table, and that Hotch could still sit at his desk), Emily rushed in carrying more papers still warm from copiers and printers. She sat, and then Hotch began.

"So, it's been about forty-eight hours since Reid's been missing, and we still haven't gotten any leads?" he asked.

Garcia spoke up. "You're wrong. I've gotten plenty. He made a purchase on his credit card around eight o'clock the night he went missing, and he bought jewelry. Very nice jewelry at that."

"What store, and where?"

Garcia named the jewelers, then said, "And you won't believe where it's located."

"I'm sure we will," Hotch denied.

"North Carolina."

"What?!" Morgan exclaimed. "Since when has he had a girlfriend in the Carolinas?"

Emily shook her head. "I don't think this is about a girlfriend, Morgan."

Rossi's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

JJ answered for her. "Garcia dug up the footage after we talked to the workers on the floor that night, and found Reid with another man, just as the clerk that rung up his purchase stated."

"I'm still running his face through the data base, but will let you know when I get the answer," Garcia said.

Hotch nodded. "Good."

JJ looked at the table for a moment. "Hotch, there's a catch. The clerk that night stated that Reid seemed happy, and that he claimed he was marrying the man's daughter, and the two were looking for wedding gifts for her."

Garcia jumped when her laptop made a _ding!_ing noise. "Okay, well, the match came up, and I have more news on Reid, things he's only confided in me, which might be important for the case."

"What's the important things?" Hotch asked.

"And who's the man?" Rossi added.

Garcia sighed. "Sorry, Reid, but I have to. Okay, so Reid actually is engaged, but the thing is, it isn't to the daughter of this man. In fact, the so-called daughter of the man he was with is only thirteen."

"Who's the man?" Rossi repeated.

Garcia turned around her laptop. "The one-and-only Stan Fields."

Hotch collapsed back into his chair when the news sank in. "My God, the kid was right."

Emily suddenly spoke. "Hotch, there's something you should see. It's about Amy and probably Reid, too."

Hotch came around from his desk and walked over to where Garcia was pulling up a website. Instantly the older agent closed his eyes in realization. It was Stan's website, and it was Amy singing.

As Amy sang, JJ picked up the song as well, but only whispered the words. Once it ended, she said, "That was a Josh Groban song, wasn't it?"

"I don't know, was it?" Garcia asked.

"Yeah, it was. Amy had to have chosen that song, because I know what she was singing about," JJ said. "She told me before the trial that the song she'd love to sing in public was 'To Where You Are' by Josh Groban. That was it. She even sang it for me."

Everyone was silent for a few minutes, then Garcia said, "Why can't these kinds of people leave us alone?"

"Because without them we wouldn't have a job, now would we?" Hotch asked, then walked briskly from the room.

* * *

**Okay, so I made up the engagement. Believe me, that was just a sudden idea I felt like throwing in. I don't know if it will make much of a difference in the story, except that she, too might have to help out on the case depending on how she ends up being. I don't even have a name for her yet! No, wait, I do. Nevermind.**


	9. Nine

**Author's Note:**

**Once again, no comment on the lateness of this update. I meant to last Friday, but, let's face it: I never did. I ended up reading over what I had already written, responding to PMs, and reading other FanFics. So, I'm sorry for the lateness, and you're going to hate me for what I have to say next.**

**To those of you who have followed this since the beginning, you know how I said I'd be making this a three-book series, right? Well, this is the final chapter. I know, I put too much unintentional suspense on this by putting so much space between updates, but it's time I finished this series. So, I've come to the decision that this chapter will be the last, meaning the pace will be fast until the final moments. I have everything planned out, but nothing is down on paper just yet, excluding one part towards the end I have to iron out before I can post that chapter.**

**To those of you who read the first book then read this one after this one was first started, your memories might be fresher, but the third book title will be posted at the end of the chapter as a reminder to everyone.**

**Thanks to all of my followers, favoriters, and readers. You have no idea how much I value your comments-many have put a smile to my face and a laugh in my heart-even those that are rather clever and guess my plot, not naming names (not that I could remember them!). -)**

**So, I shall finally begin this chapter!**

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**Friday, February 10th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalacians, United States**

_Journal,_

_According to Dr. Reid's last date and my constant viewing of the sun's rising and setting, it must be February 10th, making it my twemty-fourth day in this prison. Great._

_After Stan recorded my performance of "To Where You Are" by Josh Groban, we've been doing things like that a lot more lately. We've danced to songs like "The Best Thing" by Reliant K, "All Along" by Remedy Drive, "Cinderella" by Steven Curtis Chapman, "I'm Letting Go" by Francesca Battistelli, "Unbreakable" by Fireflight, and so much more. The last two were my choice, of course. I highly doubt he would have chosen either of those! I've actually chosen quite a few songs I've danced to and sung. I can only guess he's sending them to the BAU or posting them on his website, so the songs are all me giving hints to anyone who is clever enough to understand them._

_Oh. Lovely. Well, Stan's going out **AGAIN**. I can only imagine what for this time. You know, I've amassed quite the collection of expensive items just so he can make up for "not being there," as he puts it. If he wants leave, I could care less, as long as he doesn't kill anyone or bring anyone back here with him._

_Well, since I now have time, I think I might as well talk to Dr. Reid and everyone. There's something in particular I'd like to address. It has to do with that window and us getting out._

_Amy _

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Amy scurried down the steps to the basement, motioning for Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, and Cameron to follow her over to Reid. Reid raised his head when she approached, his eyes brightening sadly. Amy bit her lip, knowing how terrible he must feel.

"What is it?" Reid asked once everyone was sitting around him.

"First, here," Amy said, a piece of a sandwich in his mouth. "Second, you remember that window I mentioned?"

"The only one you found?" Reid asked, his mouth still full.

"It isn't very polite to talk with your mouth full, but yes, that one," Amy said, shoving more of the sandwich into his mouth.

"What about it?" Mr. Bronsky asked.

"Well, I figured out how to open it, and it's on the first floor. Maybe on Stan's next 'outing,' I could come down here and get you guys out of here. Then we could escape and find help, then alert the authorities so they can catch him!"

Cameron's eyes widened as a smile appeared on his face. "That's a genius idea, Amy! At least SOMEONE around here is thinking about getting out of here instead of cooperating!" With his last words he glared at his father, who shook his head scoldingly.

"Now, now, now, we have no idea on where we are, nor can we even dare think of such a proposterous idea!" Mr. Bronsky exclaimed, glaring at his son.

"Well, it _is_ a good idea, you have to admit," Cameron said sullenly.

Amy looked towards the ground. "I had a feeling no one would think it possible."

"Possible? Yes. A good idea? Okay, yeah, it's a decent one, the only idea so far. But should we go through with it? No," Mr. Bronsky said.

Amy looked at Reid pleadingly. "What do you think? You're the true expert here."

Reid looked at Amy, feeling how much she wanted to be of some use. "You've got to get out. If we stay, we have a chance of getting Stan to stay in one place while you get help to come here."

"I'm not leaving alone!" Amy cried.

"You're our only hope! Get yourself out while there's still the chance. The team will get us all out. Find out if there's an address of sorts or something. They can nail him and get us out with your guidance. Please Amy, just leave. You have to do it. For us, and for yourself."

Tears filled Amy's eyes. "You sure?"

Reid nodded. "I know it's the best chance we have. Believe me, I want to get out of here as much as you do, but we need you with your eidetic memory to get out of here and find a way to help. Please."

Amy looked at her feet again before saying. "Alright. I'll go. But as soon as I get help, I'm leading them back here, okay?"

Reid nodded. "Okay. Now go now before he gets back."

Amy stood shakily, then gave everyone hurried hugs before racing back to her room. She thrust on the warmest clothes she had, then grabbed her journal and pen, and dashed silently to the window room, a pair of boots in her hand, Mrs. Meyes' sweatshirt around her waist. Once she was sure no one had seen her, she put on the sweatshirt and boots, slipped the journal and pen into a small backpack she had found and filled with food and some other supplies, and began to open the window.

The window opened, cold air flooding in. She closed the door, leaving everything the way it had been when she first entered, then climbed out of the window. Once out, she closed the window as much as possible from the outside, then ran away as quickly as she could from the house, keeping an eye on the property while staying out of sight and in the woods. She followed the driveway down a hill until it vanished altogether, leaving tire tracks from Stan's vehicle the only way sign of life. Amy knew no one would know of this place, especially with the amount of vegetation surrounding the house and narrow route Stan would take to and from the house.

Amy stopped for a moment to decide on what she was going to do. She'd follow the tire tracks until they led to a road or town, then find some way to contact help. Hopefully there wouldn't be any snow or rain until then, and even then her food supply could easily run out before she made it out of the woods. But the tracks could still have disappeared by then, or she could follow a branch of them that wasn't even a route out, and get even more lost. By then, Reid, Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, and Cameron could be dead by then, not thinking about herself. Then she remembered her last song video. Part of the lyrics suggested she might be escaping. Amy knew the BAU would be searching for her then, as long as they picked up on that one piece.

It was decided. She would stick to the tracks until they ended, joined a road or town or highway, or there was a hiking trail nearby. If anyone besides Stan or someone with a gun that wasn't wearing a bulletproof vest or something along those lines came up to her, she would run to them and ask for help. Then she would proceed to contact the FBI and get everyone out of that house.

The sun was going down, but Amy knew she had stopped for long enough. She stood, and started to run along the path the tires had made, always sticking to the trees that offered shelter from the possible road. She only slowed twice, and both times were to catch her breath and see if she had been spotted or was even following the tire tracks anymore. Each time she had been safe, but she still had miles to go. And it became clear a storm could be brewing.

**End of Book Two.**

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**11/20/2012-I forgot the title of the next book! It's _Wounded_. I am continuing it as soon as I update this...just give me a minute or two. :)**


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